A strange man walks afraid.
His breath and sin do not invade.
Emptiness covers his eye,
a poor soul lost in time.

I do not see. I do not feel.
Everything around me feels numb.
How can it be said the joker?
A small deed for a small token.

Walking down the path
between light and shadow.
A place where men grow weary and hollow
and the souls become narrow.

Live, love, die.
The cycle repeats over again.
Quite unexpectedly it remain.
Is it truly aware?

A poor mans choice,
a weak child voice.
A quiet shadow,
a silent despair.

No mojo risin,
no display in nature.
Just the quiet,
quiet sound of adventure.

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